


Where Does the Good Go

by 88problems



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Canon Rewrite, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Earth-3490, Everyone is miserable, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Kind of a crossover, Natasha Stark - Freeform, Not A Happy Ending, Steve Rogers breaks hearts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark-centric, what if Natasha Stark were in the MCU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88problems/pseuds/88problems
Summary: "“I know that road…” she whispers. Natasha turns to the window to capture Zemo’s gaze; the blood roars in her ears as the time stamp continues to flash in the corner of her eye, “What is this?” Her raised voice, cracked and sharp, echoes around the chamber; Zemo smiles once more and disappears into the shadows. Natasha swears quietly and looks from Steve to Bucky, both staring at the screen with something akin to apprehension warping their features."What if Natasha Stark had endured the incident in Siberia, finding out that Steve Rogers does in fact have a dark side. It's just not what she expected.





	Where Does the Good Go

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s late but, in honor of the one year anniversary of Captain America: Civil War I decided to rewrite the last fight scene in Siberia. When I initially saw this movie in theaters I almost burst into tears during this scene because I felt so terrible for Tony. All that stress and pain and having to deal with all of that information in the span of a minute and he was expected to be fine? To be in the same room as your mother and father’s killer and you’re expected to not react in a volatile manner? I get that Steve was trying to protect his friend but was there no way to deescalate the situation at all?   
> See that was the part that has always stuck with me, what if Tony, or Steve for that matter, had acted differently in that moment? This is where Natasha Stark comes in. For all intents and purposes she is the same character/person but her responses to external stimuli would be different, her marriage to Steve in that universe has already proven that. (I am also ignoring the kiss that happened between Steve and Sharon for the sake of this fic, my apologies to the Staron shippers)  
> So let’s see how Natasha traverses this minefield of emotional baggage shall we?

**“It's love that leaves and breaks the seal**

**of always thinking you would be real**

**happy and healthy, strong and calm.**

**Where does the good go?**

**Where does the good go?”**

**-Tegan and Sara**

 

* * *

 

 

The ache in her left shoulder is strong, steady, it thrums with each beat of her heart. Natasha grits her teeth and shifts her arm within the suit hoping the pressure fades away with the adjustment. Rhodey had been out of surgery nearly an hour before she had left for The Raft to learn the whereabouts of Steve. The image of her best friends slackened face and bloody nose flash each time she closes her eyes; she hadn’t even thought to stick around for an X-Ray, not that it was necessary.

 

Perhaps the blame lay in her rather hasty departure to Siberia to help her...former teammate? Friend? Lover? She rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of this line of thinking; they are in the middle of Russia for  _ chrissakes _ investigating the possibility of multiple dangerous Super Soldiers, there isn’t time to hum and haw over the semantics of their...relationship. 

 

Perhaps not anymore. 

 

They continue down the hall of the frozen compound, Steve beside her with his shield raised and Bucky behind with his automatic rifle. 

 

“Friday, activate thermal scans,” she says quietly, glove repulsor raised at each flicker of shadow and light.

 

“I’m detecting one active heat signature boss,” the lilting irish voice chimes in her ear, Natasha grins slightly, she would never get tired of hearing Friday talk. 

 

“Status?” Steve murmurs, his voice is soft but his eyes dart from wall to wall as they continue forward towards an open door. She can feel Bucky’s gaze on her; Natasha shivers slightly.

 

“One heat signature through there...it’s odd...” 

 

Natasha scans the HUD once more as it pans across the hall and the upcoming room, one heat signature remains stationary in the center, an icy ball forms in the pit of her stomach. 

 

“Good,” Steve breathes, “easier one at a time.”

 

A small bubble of hysterical laughter nearly overtakes her; one at a time? What an excellent strategist he turned out to be, no need to worry about where the rest of them are.

Of course not.

 

The end of the hall gives way to a dimly lit lab, streaks of yellow and green light emanating from several large glass tubes stretch and pool over the concrete floor. Shadows drape along the dingy broken computer panels and equipment strewn around the corners of the room. Clouds of billowing breath circle around Steve and Bucky’s face as the pair move farther into the room; Bucky halts suddenly with a sharp intake of air.

 

“What the hell…?”

 

A small hole in each tube catches her eye, giving way to five figures distorted by the murky glass. 

 

“Shit....” she hisses, opening her helmet. All five Super Soldiers are slumped over, bearing a single bullet wound to the head, dead.

 

Alarms blare in her head as she takes in the scene before her, this is a mistake, a set up-

 

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep,” a voice rumbles through a speaker to their left. Natasha swivels her head to the side to locate the device and its power source; she has no desire to hear this man's monologue but the wall bears no wires or substantial technology. 

 

Steve steps ahead of her towards the staggered heart rate monitors attached to each hissing tube, his nose wrinkles slightly. Bucky remains behind Natasha, gun raised.

 

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” 

 

“For fucks sake,” she growls under her breath, “Friday, where is-”

 

A metal plate slides away from the wall ahead of them revealing a small blast window; Zemo grins slightly behind the glass, his brown eyes glint in the low light. With a nearly imperceptible flinch Steve hurls his shield into the steel reinforced concrete and Bucky stalks forward, swift and silent, before Natasha can say another word. 

 

Zemo’s grin widens as the shield merely bounces back. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch of UR-100 rockets, did you really think your pathetic piece of Vibranium could possibly reach me?”

 

“I’m betting I could,” Natasha sneers as she raises her glove repulsor, the electric blue light flashes across the window and Zemo’s face, “I’m losing patience anyhow.”

 

“I’m sure you could Miss Stark,” Natasha feels her heart hammering in her chest as adrenaline courses through her, “but then you’d never know why you came.”

 

Steve steps up towards the window, his shoulders are a tight line of tension and fury, and fastens  his shield to the secondary holster on his forearm. “You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve’s voice is steady but the undercurrent of incredulous outrage seeps through, his nostril flare minutely.

 

Zemo is silent for a moment as his eyes flick over Steve, his right eyebrow twitches sharply as his mouth stretches once more into a parody of a smile. “I’ve thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you, I followed you, but now that you’re standing here I just realized…” Zemo’s glare shifts to Natasha as he swallows roughly, “there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” 

A hollow laugh echos across the chamber, Natasha can feel the hair on both arms stand on end as the sound fades, “how nice to find a flaw.”

 

She hazards a glance at Bucky, the soldier’s gaze moves around the barrier as if looking for a point of entry, Natasha shakes her head -it isn’t as though she hasn’t already scanned it.

 

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve says softly after a beat, he looks so young there for the barest of moments, “is that what this is about?”

Natasha closes her eyes as she thinks back to their conversation about Charles Spencer; there will always be consequences...not all of them obvious.

 

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell,” Zemo spits, his breath quickens slightly, “no...I’m here because I made a promise.”

 

Natasha’s heart sinks to the floor, of course.

 

Steve’s shoulders visibly fall as he says, matter of factly, “you lost someone.”

 

“I lost everything,” Zemo hisses, his calm exterior vanishes for an instant, eyes shining slightly as they move from Steve's face to Natasha’s, “and so will you.”

 

He steps away from the window as a monitor flickers to life beside them; Steve follows Zemo’s movement with his gaze, helpless behind the thick layer of glass and concrete.

 

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again,” Zemo murmurs as Natasha steps forward towards the monitor next to Steve, “but one that crumbles from within? That’s dead, forever.” 

 

Steve shifts beside her but his posture is...off somehow, he is far too still. Bucky remains off to the side, tense, the gun does not move from its position in his arms. A grainy image of a dirt road fills the screen and Natasha feels her breath catch in her throat.

 

“I know that road…” she whispers. Natasha turns to the window to capture Zemo’s gaze; the blood roars in her ears as the time stamp continues to flash in the corner of her eye, “What is this?” Her raised voice, cracked and sharp, echoes around the chamber; Zemo smiles once more and disappears into the shadows. Natasha swears quietly and looks from Steve to Bucky, both staring at the screen with something akin to apprehension warping their features.

 

A car suddenly careens into the shot and crumples against the treeline of the ravine. There’s a lump in her throat, her eyes skip from the time stamp to the car over and over, it’s her father’s jag.

 

December 16, 1991.

 

It’s her father’s Jag.

 

Natasha swallows heavily against the sudden wave of nausea that threatens to collapse her. Barnes steps back, a quick dart in her periphery, he’s staring at her. As is Steve.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words are abruptly snatched away by the image of Howard struggling to gain ground as he crawls from the mangled wreck.

 

Another figure appears to the side of the car and her heart falters as though the air has been forcibly wrenched from her lungs.

 

Someone had been there…

  
  


It had never been an accident, someone had been there. Her blue eyes are red and glassy as she continues to stare at the screen, barely blinking.

 

The figure, tall and dressed in black, lumbers towards Howard and swiftly grasps the back of her father’s neck to pull him up; a tear wrests itself from her lashes, cutting a wet trail down her pale cheek. Steve shifts beside her once more but the screen grips her gaze. 

 

_ “Sergeant Barnes,”  _ Howard croaks, his reedy voice rips through the silence of the lab, nose bent and bloodied. She can’t stop the gasp, audible and wet, that rips through her as she moves towards the screen.

 

No.

 

_ “Howard!” _

 

Maria’s voice. It wavers slightly but she would never mistake it anywhere. 

 

Her mother, who used to sing to Natasha in Italian when she was a little girl and continued well into her years at MIT.

 

Her mother, whose staunch commitment to charity work had inspired the youngest Stark to continue on with her legacy, to always help those that couldn’t help themselves.

 

Her mother, whose strong voice was now thin and frightened as she remained alone in the burning vehicle.

 

Natasha looks up once to met Bucky’s gaze. He looks away.

 

She breathes in deeply through her nose and blinks rapidly as the soldier attacks Howard again and again; a sickening crunch accompanies each hit to his face and neck. There’s a pit forming in her stomach as the soldier drags her father’s lifeless body towards the car and places him back in the driver's seat.

 

“No…” she whispers quietly, the word heaves against the heavy pressure in her throat. She grips the base of the monitor as the soldier moves towards the passenger side of the vehicle.

“No,” she repeats louder, hoarsely. Natasha releases the screen as though burned and backs away in two swift strides. Steve reaches for her but she swings out with her left hand to bat his own away.

 

On screen the soldier stops in front of the passenger door and as he reaches through the shattered window Natasha raises her glove repulsor and fires. The blast illuminates the room momentarily as the screen combusts, shards of smouldering plastic and metal careen around the room, Natasha doesn’t flinch. The only sound in the lab is her own heavy breathing, she shuts her eyes against the sudden onslaught of information. 

 

Howard and Maria had been murdered on a lonely country road and left there to be discovered days later by a young state trooper. They hadn’t been lost. They had been taken from her.   
  


She slowly opens her eyes and turns to face the man in the video, twenty-five years later. Bucky meets her gaze, his grey eyes shine in the dark, steady and strong. She breathes in sharply through her nose and grits her teeth at the tell-tale sniffle that fills the room,  _ fuck _ .

 

“Nat...Nat are you...can you listen to me-”

 

She freezes as another thought blooms in her mind...what if…

 

Natasha swivels as Steve steps towards her once more, her arm still raised from her assault on the monitor. “Did you know?” Her voice wavers slightly as her jaw slips forward to stop her lips from trembling. 

 

Steve hesitates, it’s just a moment but she knows now there is no coming back from this. His shoulders square minutely as he steps closer towards her, arms raised as though to embrace her, “I didn’t know it was him-”

 

“Don’t!” She hisses, her breath is sharp and jagged as she pushed back against his chest, it’s like pushing against a brick wall even in the suit,  _ what the hell is wrong with her _ ?  “Don’t  _ bullshit _ me Steve, just...did you know?” The last words leave as a whisper and Steve’s face all but crumples. 

 

His eyes are so blue in that moment, bright and wide, like the way they were when he told her he loved her.

 

Steve looks away.

 

“I can’t,” she lowers her arms to her waist, opening and closing her fists, “Jesus. I don’t even know who you  _ are _ anymore.”  The pressure in her chest is slowly crawling up her throat, molten and spitting, a small sob threatens to rip free. She watches as Steve removes his helmet, it hangs limply in his left hand as his right runs through his sweat dampened hair. Bucky in turn lowers his gun but doesn’t drop it, his face is pale and resigned as he glares softly at the floor. 

 

“You found him two years ago...how-how long have you kept this from me-”

 

“It’s not his fault…”

 

Bucky shakes his head, lank brown hair sways with the movement, “It’s mine,” he continues in a gravelly voice. His grey eyes meet hers once more as he lowers the rifle to the frozen concrete. “If you’re gonna blame anyone here-”

 

“Oh I blame you, don’t think I don’t Barnes” she growls, her breathing settles as anger fills her chest like a flame blazing through her extremities. In that moment, she could wring the life from him -as he did to her mother- and extinguish the Winter Soldier for good, but...

 

The flame burns out.

 

“You lied to me Steve,” she says faintly once more, her eyes never waver from Bucky’s own intense grey gaze, she can’t bear to turn around now, “so much for honesty Cap.” Her lips twitch at the corners briefly as the helmet clicks and whirs into place around her face.

 

“Tasha,” Steve barks, his voice rough and broken, as she stalks towards the hall they had entered from.

 

“Get out of here Steve,” her digital voice interjects smoothly as the propulsion system on each boot roars to life, lifting her farther away from the pair of Super Soldiers, “I’m not going to chase after you anymore, you got your wish.”

 

“Natasha please,” he says weakly, a fissure of sorrow cuts through the words; she bites her lip lightly and blinks rapidly.

 

“Goodbye Steve.”

 

With one final glance at the man she loved and the man that murdered her family, she propels herself forward and out of the room.

  
  
  
  


“Friday, set a course for New York,” she murmurs faintly, as tears fill her blue eyes once more.

 

“Home boss?” The A.I asks gently, her warm voice comforting in the chilled air.

 

As bright white light cuts across her vision Natasha retracts the helmet and breathes in the crisp Siberian air.

 

“Yeah,” she blinks against the bright rolling hills of snow surrounding her, “let’s head home.”

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

Steve watches her go, his chest constricting in a way it hasn’t since his days before the serum, “God dammit,” he whispers lowly.

 

He looks to Bucky and motions for the soldier to follow him back to the jet, there is no time to waste. Not now.

  
The weight of the ring in his pocket is immense.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super happy with the ending, but this was such a difficult piece to write so I'm satisfied with it for now.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed it, let me know what you think!


End file.
